


Atlantean Analysis

by bluerosele



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Disney Movies, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Movie Night, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosele/pseuds/bluerosele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are dorks who bond in dork ways; from almost causing war over a board game, to weekly movie marathons. When Steve is left alone sulking with disney movies and puppy cap eyes, Tony has to fix it and join in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlantean Analysis

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot write. I am so sorry for my existence. I just kinda headcanon and oops there's a fic. (Also I'm sorry for the title, what are titles, I just don't know).

Steve’s a dork.

It shouldn’t come as more of a surprise as it does what with all the Stars and Stripes pointing towards such, but said Stars and Stripes are also rather intimidating. And Tony. Tony’s easily intimidated. Despite the same popular belief of confidence that must also ascertain Steve’s coolness.

Once Steve moves in the Stark--Avenger’s not just his anymore theirs sharing title need to work on that--along with the other five ticking time bombs, the should’ve-been-obvious dorkines becomes more evident.

Taking a break from Game Board Night after the Monopoly Crash of ’13--Steve’s celebratory dance had inadvertently offended/challenged Thor to a duel (clue #1)--they decided to adopt a new form of domestic bonding.

So, they start these movie nights. And, jeopardizing all of his own “supposed coolness” (it’s infecting), they’re pretty, well, cool.

Besides that one time Clint chose the Friday the 13th marathon around Halloween, which had been fairly appropriate and the first three were alright and all, but jesus there were like what, seventy? They don’t let him chose anymore.

Or, the legal binding contract had stated Natasha was to represent and approve of all choices for his designated choice night. She keeps it in check, and all is well.

For both nights in which she technically-doesn’t-but-technically-does reign, is fairly unanimous, ranging in both every aspect. Though, the one constant is that she and Clint seem to have secret inside jokes for literally every movie. Even the new ones, released yesterday, leaked by Tony, whatever they always snicker (well, Clint does, Natasha does the eyebrow thing which might be the equivalent to hysterics for her) to each other. Which is just creepy.

Bruce is pretty alright, sometimes there’re documentaries he assures will better everyone’s on current affairs (he’s then hit with popcorn by everyone besides Thor and Steve, who seem to appreciate them so, yeah, no one minds so much).

Thor likes Chick Flicks. A lot.

Steve’s nights are, well, kinda Tony’s nights too. Their partnership established itself when Steve wanted to breach his comfort zone of movies (okay, yeah, everyone wanted Steve to breach his comfort zone of movies. Wizard of Oz can only be viewed so many times). So Tony says “Call a plot, any plot” and Steve says “do you have one with, I don’t know, a submarine?” and Tony says “Giant squid?” and Steve nods in excitement and their mutually agreed upon joint advisement set up is born. Steve describes a type of movie and low and behold Tony brings it forth. Steve has quite the range in interest it seems, he’s pitched half Tony’s movie library. Tony wonders if Steve was destined for directing in an alternate universe where he didn’t get super juice. What with the whole systematic leader, and apparent ability of predicting story ideas, as well as endings, to movies he would have no other means of knowing about (despite the sixty year gap between most of the movies productions). Then he ruins it by saying “But, no, she didn’t have to die. Why’d she die. Why do all the prostitutes in the singing ones die? Is it so they can sing while they die? That doesn’t seem possible?” and “Why is the shark the camera man? Do sharks swim like that? No, this shark would die. This shark is an under-evolved shark that swims into coral. It’s like--what are those things called, Tony? The motorcycles you stand on? Yeah, a Segway. Segway Shark” and “It’s a sled? Who names their--Rosebud?”. Steve’s only pleased with 15% of the endings of movies they watch on his, or anyone’s, nights. 10% of those movies being Disney.

And Tony, Tony would like to say most of his nights aren’t taken up by Disney princess movies. But the Avengers see a lot in their work week, see a lot of very un-Disney-like stuff, and Tony, being the gracious humble solicitor he is grants them the simple pleasure of singing woodland creatures to ease the screaming of those they never knew but saw in their final moments. (Also, he was about to be preened up on Natasha and Clint’s contract after showing them Pacific Rim like for 12 straight weeks, and Tony’s pretty positive there’s some sort of small print sexual part of the contract they won’t disclose, and not that Tony would particularly mind but subconscious flirting aside he’s terrified of Natasha enough, and doesn’t trust that her wide array of torture devices aren’t involved in the bedroom, so yeah. Disney.)

Though Tony, not that he’d ever say it out loud to any of the doe-eyed observers he groans and whines at, really likes Disney. Kinda loves. But he’ll stick with his claim of having some reaction to the organic popcorn Bruce tried on the night they first watched Wall-E (“yeah, no you broke my eyes with this stuff, Bruce--no, it’s not the robots holding hands, I do that with Dummy, like, every day. Not as sentimental and fun as it looks here--not that way, Clint.”), and needing to tune-up Dummy during the last ten minuets of Cinderella (“I can hear Dummy locking up from here, let me go take care of my baby--really, Thor, I’m fine, Bruce needs to stop with the popcorn. They’re shoes. Why would I cry about shoes?”).

But, right, Steve’s dorkiness relativity to all this--he enforces it every time. Not in like a “Hey, no guys, let’s do this, I’m feeling a movie” but in a “We are a team, this is what teams do. Yes, Tony, they watch movies. They hang out. They bond. They grow as people.” way. It’s both an effective, and mildly frightening, way. And it’s a way they need. Because some missions are rough, some leave them deflated and battered, and bloody, and just damned in need of some alone time with robots (okay, yeah, that’s only Tony). Steve, though, on every Friday night Steve tracks down Bruce, or climbs up to Clint, or lets Natasha beat his favorite punching bag (teddy bear), or gets Thor poptarts, or actually carries Tony up from his workshop to watch a movie about a princess of a lost society save her home with the help of an awkward scientist and slew of volatile teammates. (Tony knows there’s a reason why Steve chooses Atlantis every time someone has a pissy fit after a mission, but he refuses to wear the Kida wig Steve bought to cheer up anyone who’s experiencing previously mentioned pissy fit.)

It’s dorky. Persistent, and sometimes impressive in the bravery required to coerce a green giant from running away to Ass Bitingly Cold Middle of Nowhere, Canada, to seeing the “birds help, Snow White make the pie again”, but nevertheless dorky.

But even a Super Soldier named after, and representing, a country can’t win all his battles, and that’s when the eyes show themselves. Steve’s eyes are expressive, to stay the least. Tony can’t pinpoint whether it’s the eyes themselves, or eyebrows crinkling up ever so slightly forward, or whole ensemble of generally kicked-puppy face, but the eyes are enough that even when absolutely no one else can deal with Michael J. Foxs boxers exploding again, Tony finds himself right next to Steve on the couch. The eyes are at least a little more bearable.

“So, which one am I?” Tony chews around half a mouthful of popcorn (Bruce’s damned stuff might be reduced in transfat but is induced with cocaine. It’s addicting.).

“What’s that?” Steve’s jerked back around, snapped out of the zone he gets into every time Kida gets a crystalized. Steve says he still gets kind of blown away that this time can achieve through animation what little thought would ever be possible for any movie.

“Which one am I?”

Steve’s eyebrows sew back together a little, but it’s faux confusion. Tony worries he’s deep enough to tell the difference now. “I wasn’t aware there were designated roles?”

“Ah, okay. You just pick this one movie every time somebody--or, wait, huh, I guess everybody--storms out to go brood on top of gargoyles?”

“It’s comforting.”

“It’s a lesson.”

“No ones here for any lesson.”

“You are.”

Steve leans back in the couch, and is fully turned towards Tony now. His arms cross over each other, and Tony is again momentarily taken aback by how arms can look so threatening and absolutely comforting.

Tony mentally blanches. Comforting. Huh. That’ll need some deeper introspection.

He shakes back when Steve starts saying, “When did you get it?”

“Well,” Tony tries his best to lean as nonchalantly as his bruised ribs will allow. “I think everyone got it around the wig. The wig was sort of the Tangled Crown of realization. Like, ‘oh, I’m the princess. Hold on quick existential crisis moment.’” Steve huffs a laugh, and Tony immediately wants to make him do that again.

“Yeah, that was sort of what I was aiming for.” He pauses, and tilts his head back at Milo poking fish to get them to fly. “Who do you think you are?”

Tony contemplates for a few moments, mostly for he only knows a few of the characters names. “I’d say the mechanic? But, I feel like she’s the unspoken inner monologue of every mission Natasha’s ever been on.”

Steve nods as Tony is saying this, like it’s something he’s already thought about. “Felt the same.”

“You’re gonna have to help me with names.”

“Alright. The doctor, Cookie.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Bruce. Aggressive doctoring. Cracks your bones when you’re not expecting.”

“Bomb guy?”

“Bomb guy?”

“I...I actually don’t know his name either. He’s just...bomb guy.”

“Clint.”

“Because bomb guy?”

“Because bomb guy.”

“Mole, the, um, mole guy?”

They pause for 1.5 seconds.

“Thor,” they say together.

Tony grabs another handful of popcorn, “Where does that leave us? If you say I’m the insane guy with the bean fetish, I’m leaving. I won’t look back. I’ll never return. Keep the tower, I don’t need it.”

Steve doesn’t blink, “I’ve considered it.”

Tony stands up.

“Hey, wait, no--”

“Take it back. We both know it’s that one old man who keeps following us everywhere--who even is that guy. Why is he the omnipresent factor of our lives. He’s a criminal mastermind, just wait for it--” Tony stops rambling when he feels Steve’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

Tony knows Steve must not know what happens when Steve does things like that.

“Don’t make me watch this alone,” and wow what would Tony not do for those eyes. It’s--it’s a bit of a weapon actually. He’s led back to the couch. “You’re so close. Really, there like two characters left. Take a wild guess.”

“I’m the one in the slinky dress and perpetual lipstick aren’t I?” Tony says on autopilot never breaking the connection with Steve’s eyes.

Apparently, Steve wasn’t expecting that and half gwaffs and half blushes as his hand eases back. Tony fights the urge to follow it. “No, not...not quite what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?”

It’s hard to tell in the movie appropriate lighting Jarvis sets automatically upon return from missions on Friday, but it seems Steve’s blush almost deepens. “I...I was kind of thinking...Kida?”

Tony blinks, “Kida. Cause I rock the wig so well?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely it.”

At this time movie Kida is slammed against rocks barely scraping past the lava steadily pursuing her. “Never mind, I can feel a connection, this happens literally everyday of my life.” Tony watches Milo scramble for a hold on the metal box containing her. “Which one are you?”

“Me?” Steve seems sort of thrown off, like he hadn’t been thinking of himself during the Avenger casting call list.

“You’re orchestrating this cacophony of a misfit team--wait, doesn’t that make you--you’re Milo!”

“What, no--”

“No, I totally see it now, you’re like you pre-Captain-ized. When you were all cute and scrawny.”

Cute. Tony steadies himself to remain still as he hopes Steve just takes that as him flippantly half-flirting like the Stark interaction entails, and ignores him, again as the Stark interaction entails.

It seems he does, “I don’t know if I--”

“It’s either Milo, slinky dress, who I’m now starting to see as Loki, crazy general, also Loki, or that one chick who smokes and is done beyond done with everything. She’s totally Coulson, so yeah, you’re Milo.”

Then Tony gets it.

He clears his throat and curses the chance of looking so good in long white wigs. “I mean, unless...unless you don’t want to be Milo, which hey that’s cool. People connect with some characters, and not others, that’s why they’re a lot of characters. Disney’s safety net. Pretty ingenious plot device really--”

“I’d like to be,” Steve cuts in, because Steve has learned to do that when Tony gets like this. “Milo that is. I’d like to...Milo’s cool.”

“Oh,” Tony keeps forward at the screen, but can feel Steve too close and too far away. “He’s cool. It’s good to teach kids size isn’t everything. And ‘hey, brain power, gets you places’. And glasses are underappreciated and--”

This time Steve leans in and kisses Tony to get him to shut up.

It’s about halfway successful in that it does get Tony to stop talking, but the sudden surprise of lips and Steve has Tony spluttering.

Steve misinterprets.

He recoils, as if Tony’s tried to rip out his tongue or something, and starts “I’m sorry, Tony, really I shouldn’t have--” but that won’t do at all so Tony shakes his head and follows Steve back to where he’s leaning away and meets his lips again.

The kiss lasts a while, though not as long as it should, and eventually they do need air. They lean back, but not any further both prepared to run and catch the other if they try to run instead.

“So.” Tony tries to find other words. They’re lost in Steve’s mouth.

“Yeah.” Steve nods and cards his hand a little through the nape of Tony’s neck.

“Does this mean you’ll jump on the back of a barely secure metal box being pulled by a flying fish to keep me from falling into lava?”

Steve leans forward until his forehead is touching Tony’s. “Every damn day.”


End file.
